


can't see the wood for the 42Ds

by pensnest



Series: The Pop Music Reality Distortion Field [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Popslash
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, F/M, Genderswap, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-21
Updated: 2010-05-21
Packaged: 2017-10-09 15:16:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pensnest/pseuds/pensnest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam was sitting up in bed and wearing an expression of utter terror. "Lance!" he cried. "My dick! It's gone!"</p><p>Lance blinked. Just behind him, Kris emitted an astonished meep.</p><p>"And look at these!" said Adam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	can't see the wood for the 42Ds

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Chalcopyrite and Msktrnanny for the beta reads.

Lance looked with disapproval at the slumbering mound next to him. A crest of black and blue hair on the pillow was the only visible indication of Adam's identity. There was no waking him, however, and plainly no prospect of morning nookie. Lance extracted himself from the bed and made his way to the bathroom for a swift shower. He pulled on clean jeans and T-shirt and went dutifully down to the kitchen to make coffee.

Really, this lack of morning sex was the down side of having friends over for dinner.

It had been a great evening. Kris Allen had a truly evil sense of humor which could slide innuendo into the most innocuous statement, and his expressive little face and deep, wicked chuckle made absolutely certain nobody could miss the joke. And his wife, Katy, cute as a kitten, laughed at each and every one of them and didn't blush once. Actually it had been mostly Adam who blushed, which was in itself hilarious.

What with dinner and coffee and Black Russians, the evening hadn't ended until Kris gave a jaw-cracking yawn at around four a.m, at which point it had seemed silly to send them back home in a cab, so the Allens had settled into Adam's guest room for the night. And Lance and Adam had fallen into bed and gone straight to sleep.

Lance did not like going to bed with Adam and having no sex. He was not used to it. He did not wish to get used to it.

Kris was in the kitchen when he got there, innocent and bed-headed and staring in bewilderment at Adam's glorious coffee machine.

"Hi," Kris said. "I thought I'd fix coffee, but—" he gestured helplessly at the multifunctional behemoth, "I don't want to launch a nuclear strike, or anything."

So Lance set things in motion, and provided juice, and contemplated eggs. He was about to ask whether Kris would prefer pancakes or waffles when a blood-curdling scream shattered the peace of the morning.

Lance dropped his orange juice and ran.

Adam was sitting up in bed and wearing an expression of utter terror. "Lance!" he cried. "My dick! It's gone!"

Lance blinked. Just behind him, Kris emitted an astonished meep.

"And look at these!" said Adam.

Lance was looking at them. It was hard not to look, when your boyfriend was sporting a pair of entirely splendid—and totally unnecessary—breasts.

*

  
It wasn't as though he'd done anything unusual last night. No crazy drugs, nothing outrageous, just food, and alcohol, sure, but not extreme, not excessive alcohol. It had been fun. It was always fun being with Kris, the least judgmental human being in the universe, even if Katy—whom Adam actually adored—was a constant reminder that for all Kris's snuggliness, he really wasn't available.

Adam had done nothing, nothing at all, to deserve this. And yet, he'd woken up, carried out the regulation morning roll call of his important bits, and found the most crucial ones absent without leave. And as if that wasn't traumatic enough, he had these—these _things_ on his chest that he was pretty damn sure had no business being there.

"Oh, dear," said Lance, from the doorway.

"Adam!" said Kris, scarlet-faced. "You—you're a woman!"

Adam felt a strong inclination to burst into tears. Before he could get around to it, however, a cute, pocket-sized blond in one of Adam's less successful T-shirts and a pair of unsuitably feminine panties wandered into view.

"What's wrong?" the new guy asked. "Why was Adam so—oh! Oh, my."

Kris turned from scarlet to white, and fainted.

*

  
In the end it was Lance who carried Kris back to the guest room. Katy, complete with overnight stubble and fair-hairy legs, seemed to be having trouble processing. Besides, she wasn't any taller than Kris, and Lance doubted she'd be able to lift him. Adam had leapt out of bed to assist, but the sight of him naked, with breasts the size of grapefruit and a vibrant auburn triangle had had Katy goggle-eyed, and Adam had swiftly changed course and was now locked in the bathroom.

So far, the morning was not going well.

Lance deposited Kris on the guest bed, and sighed. When he turned, Katy was feeling her—his—her chin, her flat (but not unshapely) chest, and the front of her tiny panties, with an expression of enormous dismay.

"What happened?" Katy asked. Katy was apparently a tenor. They could do with one of those in the house, since Adam, judging by that shriek, was now a high soprano.

"I think you turned—" Lance began.

"No, I mean. I turned into a man, obviously, but why? How? And what are we going to do now?" Well, at least there was one person in the house who wasn't going to panic. Lance approved.

"I think," he said, practically, "the first thing to do is get dressed."

"I, um. I wore a dress last night. Could you, maybe...?"

"I'll find you something," Lance promised, even though Katy's tiny man-hips were not going to hold up any pair of pants in the house. Except maybe Kris's, but Kris would be needing those himself. When he returned to the guest bedroom with a selection of possibilities (and belts), Kris appeared to be struggling back to consciousness. "We'll meet you in the kitchen. The coffee will be ready by now."

"Everything is better after coffee," Katy said, nodding. Her eyes were still a bit glazed, but she was fighting it.

"I'll go see how Adam's doing."

 

It took some time to coax Adam out of the bathroom, but eventually he (Lance was definitely not calling Adam 'she') emerged, trembling with indignation. "My dick! Gone!"

"We should discuss this, all of us," said Lance. "See if we can figure out what's going on. You should probably get dressed first."

A few minutes later, it was clear that this was going to be a problem.

"Nothing fits!" Adam moaned, attempting without success to pull up the zipper on his seventh pair of jeans. Lance was fast losing sympathy. When the first six pairs had failed to fasten around newly broadened feminine hips, he did not see that there was any virtue in trying a seventh. "And I'm going to ruin this T-shirt." It was, indeed, straining to contain Adam's magnificent new attributes.

It was interesting, Lance thought, how Adam's body had transformed itself into femaleness. He—as a she—was still taller than Lance, but not by as much as usual. Half an inch at most, Lance estimated. His features were still strong, but the jawline was somehow softened and the nose a fraction narrower. His eyes looked bigger, maybe, but that could be just the shock. Shoulders a little less broad, hands a little smaller. Feet, too, Lance supposed, and wondered whether to offer a pair of his own flip flops. His pants would still be ludicrously short on those long, pale legs, even if the hips worked—which he suspected they wouldn't. Lance's hips were not _that_ womanly.

"How about a kilt?" he suggested.

Adam glared, but rifled through the vast closet and emerged brandishing a leather skirt-thing, which proved to fit, although not very well, gaping at the waist and taut over the pelvis. In consideration of his T-shirt seams, Adam eventually pulled on a black button-down shirt. Lance hoped the buttons would be up to the task. At least he was covered, Lance thought resignedly, and went back to the kitchen. Adam would probably need to put on some makeup to face the day.

Lance cleaned the orange juice and shattered crystal off the floor, and considered what to do about breakfast. It seemed somehow inappropriate to fix pancakes or waffles, which were cheerful foods, so he made wholewheat toast and put out fresh fruit and a couple of cereal boxes. Coffee for everyone, though in the circumstances, Lance was not sure coffee was going to be enough to get them out of shock.

Adam and their guests arrived at the same moment, and sat awkwardly around the table. Katy was firmly belted into a pair of Lance's sweatpants, and one of his white T-shirts hung on her slender frame. Kris was blank-faced and twitching slightly, and seemed to be having some difficulty keeping his gaze away from Adam's black shirt, or, more particularly, from the impressive cleavage it did little to conceal. Adam was sulky, or was that sultry? All in black, and two crucial buttons had already given up the battle. He reminded Lance of... of Jane Russell in that old movie his Grandpa liked, what was it—_The Outlaw_. Oh, dear God. His Grandpa would think Adam was sexy. Lance wished very much he had not thought of that. He sat down.

"Well," he said. "So. We don't know how, we don't know why, we just know that Adam and Katy have changed sex. The good news is, it's only temporary."

There were gusts of relief.

"How do you know?" Adam asked, leaning his chin on his hands, with his elbows on the table. Kris visibly wrenched his gaze back to the fruit bowl. "Have you ever known anything like this happen before?"

"Oh, yes," Lance replied. "Back when we were touring, all five of us changed sex. Not all at the same time, but we all did. And other stuff. There was one time Justin and me swapped bodies." That had actually been pretty incredible, because they'd—never mind. "And Chris shrank. And someone got telepathic for a while. Oh, and JC turned into a cat." There were about a thousand more examples, but Lance decided it would be prudent not to go into too much detail. One way or another there was a lady present.

Now they were all staring at him. Lance was not really surprised. "It's the pop music distortion field. Reality just gets a little warped, sometimes. I think Britney had a dick, for a while," he reflected. "Guys, it'll work out. We just have to figure out why you needed to change sex, and do... whatever you have to do to resolve the situation, and everything will be fine."

"But I'm not—I don't do pop music," Katy protested. "Why me?"

"Maybe it's because of Adam. He's bound to have a bigger distortion field around him than anyone else. Sorry," Lance said. "Um. Would you like some toast?"

Kris and Adam were very carefully not looking at one another, and neither of them seemed to be in the mood for breakfast, but Katy lifted her stubbly chin and determinedly buttered a slice and ate it, crunching harshly in the silent kitchen. "I'll help you with the dishes," she declared.

"You two go sit in the other room," Lance ordered.

Silently, Kris and Adam left the kitchen.

"Well," said Katy, as soon as the door was closed. "I'm sorry, Lance, but this sucks."

"Yeah."

"I mean, it's obvious what this means, right?"

"I... um. Probably."

"I thought it was just the crazy internet people, and they were harmless, mostly, but now I changed into a man and it looks like what has to happen next is, my husband has to have sex with Adam so we can get our proper bodies back. That's just not fair!"

It wasn't, but there didn't seem to be any other rational course to follow. And yet... "What I don't understand is, why you changed too," Lance said. "Usually, it's just the one person who has to figure it out."

"But, you said, Adam's distortion field..."

"Hmm," said Lance. "Adam does everything bigger than everyone else. But I don't know, this seems. Weird."

"Yes, and you're not even the one who changed sex," Katy muttered. "And Kris is my husband! He's not supposed to sleep with anyone else. If things had just stayed normal, he never would have."

"Yeah," said Lance, again. It did suck, it really did, knowing your boyfriend was going to have sex with someone else, just because he was a girl now. He'd known about Adam's crush on Kris, the whole world had known about it, but he hadn't actually thought it was important. And nothing was ever going to happen anyway. And now, Lance supposed he was meant to give Adam a pass, say it didn't count, or something, because Adam was female now, but it did count, and it was depressing to think that the distortion field had cooked this one up. In his experience, there was always some pretty significant hidden motivation going on when things got weird like this.

"Is it going to take long?" Katy asked.

"How should I know? I mean, who knows?"

"Well, how long did it usually take for you and the guys?"

Lance considered. "A day or two, or three, I guess. Weeks, once or twice, but mostly just days."

"Thank goodness for that. I have auditions, I have stuff to do. But a few days... that's doable."

"You probably need to stay here. I mean, not if you don't want, you're less, uh, noticeable than Adam, but..."

"Thanks," Katy said. "I think it's best we do. But I'm going to need some clothes that aren't these, because, no offence, Lance, and don't think I'm ungrateful, but—"

"It's okay," Lance said. His sweatpants were ridiculously floppy on Katy's skinny new body. He wouldn't have felt comfortable like that either.

"So, do you have a tape measure?"

"Er, I guess. Why?"

"Adam needs a bra. And I'm not even going to try guessing the size."

*

  
Katy marched into the room like a man on a mission, and ordered Adam to stand. He was relieved, honestly, because he and Kris had so far stared at one another and managed to say a grand total of nothing at all, and Kris had gone red again.

"What are you doing?"

"Arms out of the way," Katy said, and when Adam complied, she (Adam really could not think of Katy as 'he', even though this new shape was awfully cute) slid a tape measure around his chest, just below his two new puppies. "Hmm," Katy said, and re-measured, this time around... everything. "Hmph. Forty-six," Katy announced. "No wonder your clothes didn't fit. You should probably have some pants, too," and down went the measuring tape to his waist and hips.

"Inside leg?" Adam asked, hopefully, but Katy just gave him a very old-fashioned look and said they'd go with 'long'. Okay, he did actually know women didn't size their clothes that way, but it was something familiar. Right now, he didn't even need to think about which side he dressed. His dick! Gone! "Why are you doing this, anyway?" He wouldn't rule out Lance storing the details for future mockery.

"You're going to need some clothes that fit," Katy said with determination. "Even if it's just for today."

"And we thought," said Lance, entering the room, "we'd better go buy the stuff for you, because if you leave the house looking like that, the paparazzi are going to be all over it. We don't need sex change rumors, even if it's true."

"You mean, I'm a woman, and I can't even go shopping?" Adam was incredulous. Sadly, they had a point. Yes, he had breasts now, but he still looked an awful lot like Adam Lambert, and the press would be horrendous. "Well, damn it, I'm going online."

*

  
"So what did you do?" Kris said in an undertone, as Adam and Katy pored over the computer screen together. Occasionally, there were excited cries: "That one has diamanté," and, "The French lace is good," and, "Ooh, leopard print!" Lance tuned them out. Adam had never bought himself a bra before, and Lance would bet cash he'd end up with at least half a dozen of the things.

"Do?" he replied, unhelpfully. As far as Lance was concerned, this was All Kris's Fault.

"When you—I mean, how do we make this stop?" Kris waved vaguely towards the happy shoppers.

"Y'all have to figure out what the cause is, and do something about it." Lance didn't actually feel like being helpful. Adam was, after all, _his_ boyfriend, even if he was a woman now. The pop music reality distortion field could insist all it liked that Adam and Kris belonged together. Lance was not going to help.

"But," Kris said, helplessly. "My wife's a man."

"You'll figure it out," said Lance.

And then Adam came over, pouting, to complain that they couldn't get anything delivered before tomorrow at the earliest, and could Lance _please_ go get him something to wear?

*

  
"Please!" Adam hissed in a fierce whisper. "Don't let him buy my clothes, okay? Lance wears terrible clothes. He thinks a Fuck Hello Kitty T-shirt is edgy. Help me. Get me something I can wear, _please_, Katy-doll. You're my only hope."

Which was why Katy in the middle of the worst shopping trip of her life, trying to find something cool to fit a woman with a forty-six inch chest.

They had managed the bras all right. Lance was obviously bewildered to learn that Adam was now a 42D. He'd queried this: "I thought you said forty-six?" and Katy had tried to come up with an explanation for bra sizing that made sense, but there wasn't one so in the end she'd just said, "It's complicated." Still, she had a lot more experience with bras than Lance did. Luckily he was willing to go with it when she said the Victoria's Secret stores Adam had been browsing wouldn't actually be any use at all.

Lane Bryant was their best bet, for underwear at least, and by dint of visiting three different stores they managed to pick up four 42D bras that—if they actually fit—Adam would probably be willing to wear. A twenty minute diversion to Gap had brought Katy some pants she wasn't ashamed to be seen in, and a handful of shirts, and fresh underwear. But that had been the easy part. Since lunch, they'd been mocked in most of the smart boutiques, and outright laughed at in the one store Adam had mentioned, and her feet hurt.

"Okay, that's it," said Lance. "We need help." He ushered her into the nearest Starbucks, ignored three customers taking photos of the pair of them (probably to send to Perez Hilton, Katy could just imagine the stupid headlines about Lance and his boy on the side), bought them both grande caramel lattes, and called his assistant.

Katy didn't even want to buy Adam the kind of clothes that Adam would want to wear, not while Adam was an Amazon with breasts that apparently had some kind of magnetic force field. Kris certainly didn't seem able to stop staring at them like a dazed fish. And Adam's idea of suitable clothing would involve black lace, leather, sequins, spandex... or all four. None of which would interfere with the magnetic field, she was sure.

But he'd looked so pathetic and helpless, pleading with her like that, she'd had to promise.

"Thanks, baby," said Lance, happily. "I will totally buy you something while we're there." He put his cellphone away. "Lisa gave me directions to a boutique she says will work. Thank God."

Katy could not decide whether she wanted to find Adam-type garments there, or not. Her heart said no, but her feet were putting up a strong argument for yes.

 

Mercifully—her feet were definitely winning the argument by the time they arrived—Lisa's boutique really did have a selection of interesting clothes for women about twice Katy's size, and picking out a selection of T-shirts was mostly a question of looking for the black ones. Adam had maligned Lance, though, because Lance was the one who insisted on buying the leggings, and a close-fitting faux-leather bustier which would stop traffic, as well as a couple pairs of jeans in long length, and fierce, multi-strapped sandals.

"You realize," she said, tartly, as they headed back to the car, "this was probably a complete waste of time. They've had all day together without us. They've probably, you know. Changed back already."

"You haven't," Lance pointed out.

"Huh." There was that.

"If we've wasted the entire day trying to find Adam something to wear that he doesn't need any more, I may have to kill both of them," Lance said.

"I'll help you hide the bodies."

She didn't think either of them was talking about the shopping trip.

*

  
Kris went back to his own place to find some fresh clothes, so Adam was left to his own devices for hours. For want of anything better to do he tidied the kitchen, then spent a good while online trying to find out about overnight sex changes and instead learning far more than he wanted to about transitional surgery. Which this wasn't.

Daytime TV was no more interesting than he expected, so he muted it and listened to the Suicidal Tendencies playlist on his iPod and texted everyone he could think of. He tried a couple of them with What's new? Oh, I just changed sex this morning, but couldn't exactly be surprised that they didn't take him seriously. Danielle said he needed to get in touch with his feminine side and how did he feel about cramps now, huh? Brad sent some very caustic replies suggesting he was thoroughly domesticated anyway and had obviously been castrated without noticing it, and one thing led to another, and he'd probably have to be really nice to Brad at some point to make up for it, but not right now. Hell, if becoming a woman didn't give Adam an excuse for liberating his inner bitch, nothing would. Or maybe he could blame it on hormones? He had a feeling he wasn't supposed to think like that, but Adam had never censored the inside of his own head and wasn't going to start now.

He ought to get to know this new body, he thought, morosely, and went off to run himself a bath.

Sitting in hot, scented water, he told himself that he ought to examine the new equipment. Give it a test run, or something. After all, it looked like the universe, or the reality distortion field, or whatever Lance called it, was setting him up to have sex with Kris, sweet, straight Kris, and if the universe had gone to the trouble of taking away Adam's dick, the universe was probably pretty determined.

The trouble was, Adam didn't actually want to sleep with Kris. Sure, it was a sweet fantasy, he'd thought about it, especially way back at the beginning of Idol, but he'd thought about sex with a whole lot of people he didn't actually want to sleep with—that cute speed skater, the elf last year who'd tried to lure him into the Santa display, David Archuleta, the President—and he'd had plenty of sex dreams, and sometimes naked Kris had been involved, but hell, he'd once had a truly evil dream involving Perez Hilton, a baseball bat-sized dildo and a whole vat of lube. Adam did not think he could be held accountable for the machinations of his subconscious while he was dreaming.

He had not realized that Kris actually wanted to have sex with him. The hugging, and stuff, Adam had thought that was just Kris's natural—adorable—huggyness. But he must really, really want to, to make the universe perpetrate this outrage. And frankly, Adam thought, if Kris was desperate enough to make this happen, then he could have taken Adam as he was, dick and all. Adam missed his dick. He was extremely fond of it. They did everything together. And now...

He peered at the new, mysterious situation between his thighs. Really, there ought to be signposts, or something. He poked around a bit, but his heart really wasn't in it, so he sighed and hauled himself out of the tub. The mirror showed him the full glory of his new 42Ds, which somehow looked a lot bigger than that sounded. Adam spent a few minutes posing for himself, and concluded that Kris's newfound fascination for Adam's chest was probably quite justifiable. If a guy was really into breasts, these were worth looking at. Pale, round, lightly dusted with freckles. His nipples were a lot larger than before, he noticed.

No point putting on actual clothes again, Lance and Katy would soon be back with something he could wear, so he pulled on his bathrobe instead. It was big enough to close around his new dimensions, and covered everything.

Which was just as well, because as soon as Adam was nicely settled on the couch again, Kris arrived.

"Ah!" said Kris, sounding nervous. "You changed!"

"You knew that this morning," said Adam. "Oh. You mean the robe."

Kris smiled vaguely, and went to put his suitcase in the guest room. Adam decided it would be polite to do his hostly duty, and went to fix drinks for them both—coffee, as he knew Kris well enough not to expect him to be ready for vodka. Adam was ready for vodka.

"I—ah, great," said Kris, making straight for his coffee mug and downing an alarming quantity of it at once. "So. Um."

"Yeah," said Adam.

"I was thinking, we could, since it's just you and me right now, we could maybe—"

Adam braced himself.

"—sing?"

"Sing?"

"See what kind of voice you have now. I brought my guitar," said Kris.

If this was Kris's idea of seduction technique... actually, it was a bit more suave than Adam had been expecting. And yeah, it could be interesting to experiment with a different set of vocal chords.

*

  
They were doing great. Adam's range as a female was just as impressive as his range as a male, and after the initial wariness, he was letting himself go and really enjoying the music. Kris kinda wished there was a bit less emphasis on Cher and a bit more on stuff he actually knew how to play, but they managed to find a bunch of songs they both knew, and it was fun, and a whole lot more comfortable than sitting trying to make conversation when Adam was being all... female.

And then Katy and Lance got back from their shopping trip, and Katy went to help Adam figure out how to put on the bras, and Lance sat on the couch with his arms folded (Lance had some impressive muscles there) and looked at him suspiciously. I don't want your boyfriend, Kris wanted to say, but it wasn't going to help anyway. If Adam wanted Kris enough that this weird pop distortion thing had turned him into a woman, it looked like the only solution was going to be that Kris would have to have sex with him. Her. Him. And... what the hell was he going to do about that?

"Woah!" Kris said in terror as Adam came back into the room. Wearing black leggings with slits all the way up the outsides of both thighs, and a snug-fitting black T-shirt with a disturbingly low neckline. He was smiling, and insisted on doing a twirl in the centre of the room so that Kris and Lance could admire the new duds.

"Look what your wife found for me!" Adam said, excitedly.

From the doorway, Katy coughed. "Actually, Lance found those. He thought you'd like them." She was wearing that expression Kris recognized, where she wasn't sure whether to be pleased or annoyed. It was so weird, Katy's expressions on a face that was distinctly male. Katy's _face_ on a face that was male.

Adam straddled Lance's lap to thank him properly. Kris fiddled with the guitar and did his best not to notice Adam's ass.

 

No-one felt like cooking, but Adam knew this place that sent round gourmet meals, so they sat around the table together picking at dinner. Nobody wanted to state the obvious, and there didn't seem to be anything else to talk about, so it was a very quiet meal. Total contrast to last night, which had been so much fun.

Kris couldn't look at Katy. His wife was now a man. What the heck was he supposed to do? Was this so that him sleeping with Adam didn't count because he wasn't married, exactly, at the time? Kris did not think marriage vows worked like that. He remembered the 'for better, for worse' part, even if the universe didn't.

And the trouble with not looking at Katy was, he ended up mostly looking at Adam, because at least Adam didn't look like he wanted to bend Kris into a pretzel and throw him out the window, whereas Lance looked exactly like that. Lance was not being the sweet, friendly, funny guy he had been last night, not at all. He glared. He glowered. He practically snarled every sentence that came out his mouth. Frankly, it made Kris nervous, and the whole situation was complicated enough without having to worry about Adam's boyfriend's desire to murder him.

Lance got up for coffee—the coffee was about the only good thing happening here—and made quite a production of presenting it to Adam, and to Katy, and then looming over Kris before he put the cup down.

"Lance," Adam said, tiredly, "could you at least try not to be such a prick?"

"I—I honestly don't know," Lance confessed, but he sat down and made a real effort not to glare.

"Look," Kris said, "I don't know why this is happening. I just—it's kinda hard to take, you know? There's Adam with these—" he gestured, "—giant—and could you at least put on a sweater, or something, because it's really distracting. And then, I keep thinking, Katy is a guy now, and Adam's a woman, and I just wanna, like, keep hold of my dick because I'm scared it's going to disappear next. So I'm sorry if I'm not dealing as well as I could, but it's not easy, you know?"

"Yes, it must be really upsetting, wondering if your dick is suddenly going to disappear," Adam said, sweetly. "Absolutely and totally in every way just as scary _as if it actually happened!_" He stood abruptly and strode from the room.

"And Kris? If you wanted a woman with enormous boobs, you should have married one!" Katy said, and stormed out.

Kris sat, open-mouthed. He hadn't meant—

"So, that went well," Lance said, stonily.

"How is everything my fault?" Kris pleaded.

"Who else's fault would it be?" said Lance.

*

  
Nobody was looking for after dinner conversation. Adam was behind the firmly shut door of the master bedroom, and Katy in the guest room. Lance was determined not to allow Kris access to Adam, at least not for tonight. There must be an alternative, and he was going to find it, and until he did, there would be no having of sex in this house.

Eventually Kris crumpled under the force of Lance's cold stare, and Lance watched as he knocked, and mumbled some kind of negotiation through the guest room door, and was allowed inside.

Hah.

The tiny glow of victory faded pretty fast after that. Lance sat on the couch and wondered what the hell to do, and thought about his beautiful boy, and maybe even cried a little bit, silently, into one of the throw pillows. Eventually he stretched out and tried to sleep, only to find his thoughts just kept swirling and would not let him rest. Damn it, how could Adam do this? How could Adam want—maybe it was mostly Kris's fault, but Adam had to want this too, at least a little bit. Plus there was the thing with Katy, which Lance could not convince himself was anything to do with Kris's unspoken desires.

Lance levered himself off the couch and went to remonstrate.

In the big bed, Adam was fast asleep, curled around a pillow. He hadn't washed off his eyeliner properly, and there were wiggly tracks down his cheeks.

Lance melted. His baby, his precious boy, had been crying. All alone. God, he was a selfish piece of shit. Adam had been totally traumatized, and Lance had been sulking on the couch. Silently he took off his pants and T-shirt, slipped into the bed, and slid his arms protectively around his sleeping lover.

"Lance?" A very small voice, not Adam-like at all.

"It's me, baby. It's okay."

"My dick is gone."

"I know, honey." Lance sighed. He was very fond of Adam's dick.

*

  
Katy had her back to him, so he wasn't certain, but it looked very much as if she was crying, and if there was one thing in this life Kris could not stand, it was to see Katy crying. He crawled across the bed and put his arms around her. "Sweetheart, don't, please don't. Everything's gonna work out."

"How?"

"I don't know that part yet. I don't even know how things got this crazy. I just, I love you, this has to work out." He held her close for a while, adjusting to the strange awkwardness of man-Katy who was the same height he was and whose cheek was scratchy against his neck, until she stopped crying and hugged him back.

"I didn't mean that I liked Adam's, um, new equipment," Kris said.

"Really?"

"I like yours. Yours are pretty. Just the right size."

"Except now."

"Yeah," Kris agreed, glumly.

*

  
Adam snuggled close.

"Oh—sorry," Lance muttered. "Didn't mean to, um."

"That's okay," Adam said. He tried to readjust, but his new breasts were hard to deal with. "They get in the way, don't they."

"No, no," Lance said, valiantly. "They're very. Perky."

"It's kind of weird, don't you think?"

"I think this whole situation is kind of weird."

"But you've had things like this happen before. You seem to be dealing."

"Oh. Yeah. But it was weird before, too."

"I guess. But I was talking about, uh, gravity."

"Gravity?" He could feel Lance shift to stare at him, uselessly, in the darkness.

Adam's breasts were squashing against Lance's chest now. It felt nice. "What I mean is, don't you think they ought to sag a bit? They seem a bit big to be all..."

"Perky," Lance reminded him.

"Perky. Because I know there's no silicone going on in there. At least—" could that be the explanation? No, no, it couldn't, not overnight and with no scars. "I think it's because they're new. They haven't been pulled down by gravity for years, so they're all, you know. Can we use a different word than perky, because I really don't feel like a perky kind of a person right now." Or actually, ever.

"Oh, baby," Lance said, and stroked Adam's hair. Lance's other hand sought a safe place to rest, and spread out, warm, on Adam's ribs.

"See, there's something else I've been wondering," Adam went on, feeling rather nervous and more than a bit foolish. "It'll probably sound stupid, but...

"Tell me."

It would be easier to tell him if his fingertips weren't moving, Adam thought. Less fun, though. "I was just thinking, this body's new, right? Gravity-defying breasts, and all. So I was wondering if, um. I think I'm a virgin now."

"Oh! Wow." Damn. Lance had sat up and taken his hand away.

"I haven't had sex in this body," Adam said, "and, the thing is, if I have to have sex with Kris so that I can get my own body back, I'd like to at least know what I'm doing. I mean, it's ridiculous. I've never had sex with a woman."

Lance was quiet for a moment, and his hand slid back over Adam's ribs. "I have. Had sex with a woman," he said.

"You have?"

"Sure. Long time ago. Before I got started on the kind of sex I really want."

Yeah, with guys, Adam thought sadly. Not with women, and where does that leave me? "Was it good?"

"I was a teenager. It was sex. Of course it was good. I mean, it wasn't great sex, it wasn't like it is with you, but, you know. It was good."

"So could you maybe give me some hints? See, if I have to have sex with Kris, I don't want to be, I need to, I don't want to be the clueless one, you know? I've tried making out with girls, a little bit, but. It's not the same as knowing it from the inside. I actually don't have a clue how all this works." It was too embarrassing to think that Kris, sweet, wholesome little Kris, who'd had precisely one sex partner his entire life and who Adam was willing to guarantee had never done anything remotely kinky, ever, was going to be the experienced one. What if Adam was terrible at woman-sex?

"Because you're Adam Lambert," said Lance, who plainly understood what Adam had meant.

"Yeah," Adam said in a small voice, and hid his face on Lance's shoulder.

"See, the thing is," said Lance, "I don't want you to have sex with Kris."

"What else can I do? I really, really want my dick back."

"Me too, baby. Me too. I just—you're _mine_, and I'm sorry if that sounds ridiculous, but that's how I feel, and I don't want you to be with anyone else."

Adam hugged him tight. "I'm glad," he said, muffled. "I don't want to either, but I don't think we have a choice."

They lay there in silence for a while, holding each other. Adam tried not to breathe too deeply, because his breasts kept squashing themselves against Lance's chest, Lance's smooth, strong chest that always smelled so good, and he hadn't had sex in forty-eight hours, give or take, and it was all very difficult.

Lance's thumb stroked the underside of Adam's left breast. "Your skin feels incredible just there. It's so smooth. It's like satin."

"I guess... it's new? Like the rest of me?"

"Well," Lance said, sounding more solid, as though saying it out loud made him feel better, "I guess the only option is for me to help you out with your virgin problem."

"Really? You'll do that?"

"Hey. You're my Adam. Anybody's going to de-virginize you, it's gonna be me," Lance said with determination. "I can probably remember where everything is supposed to go." His thumb started tracing along the lower curve of Adam's breast again. "And it'll be a whole lot easier with you. You'll tell me exactly what works, right?"

"That right there, what you're doing, that works," Adam said. "You could actually, a bit more... mmm." Lance's hands sliding over both breasts now, really very nice indeed. He leaned back into the pillows and arched a bit.

"I'm guessing your nipples are still pretty sensitive," Lance said, leaning towards them.

A good guess, it turned out.

*

  
"Come on, Katy, honey. Let's get some sleep. It's been a long day."

"My feet haven't recovered yet," she said, as they undressed.

"You want me to rub them for a while?" he offered.

"Mmmm. No, I'm okay. Let's just cuddle."

Kris was definitely down with that, and drew his wife close against him as he pulled the covers over them both. Kissed her cute little nose, even though it wasn't quite as cute or as little as usual.

"Oh! Sorry." There was a world of dismay in Katy's voice.

"No, no, it's fine." Kris was maybe a little boggled by it, but no, he could be cool, he was cool, Katy was his wife. It was fine.

"Oh my God, Kris, I can't believe, oh dear..."

"Hey, don't worry. Really, it's okay."

There was yet another insistent little tap on his thigh, and Katy giggled helplessly. "I think it has a mind of its own."

"What, you mean, the rest of you stopped thinking I'm sexy?" he said, faking indignation. "That's what's supposed to happen."

"It's not happening to you," she said, rather sadly.

"Um." Actually...

"This is really weird," Katy said after a few minutes.

"Yeah," said Kris, stroking her firmly through the flap in her cotton boxers. "Good weird, though, right? Not bad, icky weird. Uh, you know you could do this to me, if you like." Katy's hand slid confidently down Kris's boxers. A hand that was larger than he'd expected—how was it he kept expecting everything to be girl-Katy? He had Katy's _cock_ in his hand!

And yet, hearing the little sounds she made deep in her throat, and the way she was stroking him, it was comfortingly familiar.

*

  
"See, my friend Wendy used to rant, back in the day, she had this boyfriend who used to whine about how difficult it was with women, and Wendy would say, men are the ones who can read maps and follow directions, and it's _front and center_, guys, how hard can it fricken' be?" Lance's fingertips were circling, very lightly.

"I think you found it," Adam said, and spread his legs a bit wider.

"Of course," Lance said, "the real problem isn't finding it, it's figuring out what to do when you get there. Like, do you... tease?"

"Teasing is actually good," Adam said. After a while he said, "Or something else might be good, too."

"Stroking?"

"Ah, yes. Stroking. Yes."

"Or," Lance said thoughtfully, "do you press down hard—"

"That! That! That's what you do!" Adam's hips came up. Lance chuckled, and he obliged.

"Fuck, baby, that is seriously good." It felt incredible! So intense, so... weird, really, but in the best way. Lance's fingers slid out from below Adam's and dipped carefully inside him, and that felt even better. "More," he said, "I want more!" He slid his foot along Lance's thigh, splayed himself wide open for Lance's fingers. "Deeper, yes? I think—Oh! Fuck, that's, there's a place—forward a little bit, up, oh, yes, deep like that." Adam slid his own hands up to squeeze his breasts, scissored his nipples between his fingers, and concentrated on the incredible sensations in places where he'd never even _had_ places before, while Lance's fingers worked on him and in him, and he moaned and demanded more. His orgasm surprised him, like an earthquake rippling out from the epicentre under Lance's hand.

"Oh!" he said, when he got his breath back. "Oh, that's _good!_"

"Do you want to stop now or are you up for more?"

Adam clamped his thighs firmly around Lance's waist, and wriggled impatiently.

"I'll take that as a yes," said Lance, and reached for the condoms.

*

  
"I need a Kleenex," Katy muttered.

"Isn't there a box in the nightstand?"

She levered herself up and investigated. Not on top, but in the drawer there were... ah. A selection of condoms in a brocade-covered box.

How Adam.

"I found some," said Kris, handing her a handful of tissues.

"Thanks. You know what the weirdest thing about this whole deal is? It's me turning into a man."

"I think Adam turning into a woman is about the same amount of weird."

"Mmm. But let's think about this logically. If Adam wanted to have sex with you, he'd want to be in his usual body, wouldn't he?"

"I... guess. I was never in a situation like this before. Even the Idol mansion never got this strange."

"But if _you_ wanted to have sex with Adam, that would explain him being a woman now," Katy said. "There's actually an explanation for the Adam situation, but for me, unless I'm supposed to have sex with Lance to keep him busy while you and Adam get to it, then there doesn't seem to be an explanation for me."

After a moment, Kris said, "I—I don't want you to have sex with Lance. I don't want you to be with anyone but me."

"And I don't want to be with anyone but you," Katy replied. "Which leaves us with a problem. How do I get back like I'm supposed to be? And Adam, too. It all comes back to why this happened."

"I don't want to have sex with Adam, I swear."

"Did you ever think about it?"

"No!"

"Wow, that was fast. Are you sure you never thought about it?"

"No! I mean, yes, I'm sure."

"Really, really sure?"

Kris looked at her helplessly. "I didn't actually want it to happen. I mean, have you seen the _size_—uh..."

"So you have maybe thought about it, just a little bit."

"Okay, I maybe thought about it. Just thought about it. Not in a wanting it to happen kind of a way."

He looked so cute, earnest and scrunch-faced and worried. Katy relented. "It's okay. I know you never would have done anything about it."

"It was just, you know."

"Fantasy."

"Yeah."

They fell silent.

"So," Katy said. "I have an idea..."

*

  
It turned out Adam as a woman was even toppier than Adam as a man. Or possibly it was their mutual unfamiliarity that meant he needed to give a constant stream of explicit instructions. "More, no, shallow, just a little bit, that's really good, keep doing that, now deep, give it to me hard, more, more, now shallow..."

Lance grabbed Adam's waist and rolled them. "Ride me," he gasped. "Show me how you want it."

*

  
"It feels weird," Katy said, "but it's good weird, not nasty icky I-don't-like-this weird."

"Oh," said Kris. "You're sure it doesn't hurt?"

"It's good, I promise."

"So you think—"

"I think we're going to need lots of lube," Katy said, practically. "What I don't understand is, why there isn't lube in this nightstand along with all the condoms."

"There's condoms in there? My side just has Kleenex."

"I think it's sweet," Katy said. "Making sure their guests' needs are taken care of."

"Maybe not just the guests," said Kris. "Come on, you know they've had sex in every room in this house. Although, not tonight, I'm guessing. Not with Adam all..." He gestured. Katy narrowed her eyes at him. "No, I mean, I'm just saying. Lance is gay, so."

"So they're probably just cuddling," Katy said. "Not like us."

"Well, we're married," said Kris, reasonably. "We're supposed to have sex."

"Bringing us back to the matter of lube," said Katy. "I think I know where to find something."

*

  
Adam kneeling above him, teasing his cock, sliding down hard, riding him fast and furiously, taking exactly what he wanted—it was incredibly hot. Incendiary. Lance would not have been surprised to see smoke rising from the sheets. When Adam slid his legs between Lance's, Lance pressed his feet into the mattress and thrust up as hard as he could. When Adam leaned forward and braced his arms on either side of Lance's head, Lance obediently squeezed and sucked Adam's breasts, and when Adam rose back up and straddled his hips, Lance kept his thumbs right where Adam had put them and held on for the ride.

And afterwards, when Adam collapsed onto the bed next to him and stared at him with wide, dazed eyes, Lance was just as wide-eyed when he stared back.

*

  
"You were right, it is kinda weird. Definitely good weird," Kris said breathlessly, into the pillow. "Really good weird. Uh, you can go a bit faster now. Oh. Yeah."

* * *

  
Everything was quiet.

Lance risked opening one eye. In the dim light of morning he could discern the still-sleeping lump of Adam beside him. Good.

Willing his legs to support him, Lance inched his way out of the tangled bedding and sidled into the bathroom. He didn't dare stay in bed any longer, he hadn't the stamina. Adam Lambert, god of sex, he could keep up with, but Adam Lambert, sex goddess, had exhausted Lance's cock, mouth and hands _and_ half the contents of Adam's toy box, and Lance was in serious need of refuelling before Adam woke up, because he was absolutely and totally certain Adam was going to demand more. Lance had no objection to supplying as much more as he could handle, but he had to keep up his strength.

He went straight to the refrigerator and drank about a quart of orange juice without even bothering with a glass, wolfed down a banana, then got out everything he could find that would contribute to a mighty and restorative breakfast. Eggs, bread, he could make pancakes, thank God there were steaks, he could eat a whole cow...

Lance was setting the coffee machine about its business when Kris wobbled into the kitchen looking even more bewildered than he had yesterday morning, before this all began. "Hi," Kris said, and made for the table, where he poured himself a large glass of milk and drank it straight off. He sat, wincing a little. Kris didn't seem in the mood for conversation, and Lance couldn't think of anything useful to say either, so he busied himself with pans and soon set heaped plates at his own place and Kris's.

"Man, you are a lifesaver," said Kris. "I feel like I didn't eat in days."

Lance was just pouring the coffees when Katy walked in.

"Hi," she said, and kissed Kris's ear.

"Katy! You're—you're back!" Kris leaped out of his chair and hugged her hard, actually spun her off her feet, and kissed her enthusiastically.

"Congratulations," Lance said, beaming at her and offering her a mug. "Uh, you wouldn't happen to know how—"

"Here," she said, demurely, and handed him the Crisco. Confused, Lance put it back in the cupboard.

Katy smiled enigmatically, but before he could ask what she wanted the Crisco for, an ear-splitting "Woo-HOO!" erupted from the master bedroom. "Lance Bass, get your fabulous ass in here RIGHT NOW!"

***

  
"I didn't order Chinese," Adam said, puzzled, into the house phone.

_Order's in the name of Allen?_

"Oh. Okay, sure, bring it up."

"We should probably get some clothes on," Lance said, from the bed. He made no move to get dressed, however, until Adam prodded him and told him to get his ass out of bed if he wanted food, or else he, Adam, would eat everything in the house.

"I fit in my jeans again," Adam said happily, pulling them on. He wouldn't miss the bras, not at all, although—"I'm keeping those leggings," he said. Leggings were unisex, right? He padded downstairs and accepted the delivery, which Kris or Katy had apparently paid for already—where were they, anyway?—and took it into the kitchen. There was no Kris, and no Katy, only a clean, tidy kitchen. And a note on the table.

_Gone home to celebrate,_ it read. _Thanks for everything, sorry about the bedsheets. K and K_

"Bedsheets?" Adam said, startled, and handed the note to Lance.

"Oh my God," Lance said, and began to laugh. Adam would have called him on this irritating behavior, but he was way too hungry, so he attacked the cartons and they spent the next twenty minutes happily pigging out.

"So," Adam said, when most of the cartons were empty. "What was so funny?"

"Crisco," said Lance.

"Ew," said Adam. "Also, huh?"

"Don't worry about it," Lance said. "You know, it's funny how things worked out. I was afraid I was supposed to have sex with Katy, to, like, even things up for everyone. Boy-Katy, I mean. And she was an adorable little twink, but so totally not my type."

"I thought she was really cute," said Adam.

"Of course you did."

"Anyway," Adam said, hastily, "you had sex with me, and I seem to remember not being your type either, for a while there."

"Turns out you just can't help being my type. You know, I think." Lance took a deep breath. "I think this whole thing was prob'ly my fault. I wanted to be sure you wouldn't sleep with Kris even if you could, so, when you changed into a woman and you still wanted me—"

"No, no! It wasn't you, it was me! I have these stupid, look, I still remember being, you know, the fat kid in school, and you're just so—but I changed into a _woman_, and you still wanted me."

They looked at one another.

"You know," said Lance, "any second now, Kris is going to call and apologize for this all being his fault, and Katy's going to say it was actually her fault."

"Why would it be Katy's fault? I figured her for an innocent bystander."

"Because she needed proof that Kris wanted her more than—I mean, even if she was a guy, she was still the only one for Kris."

"Then the only one who didn't do anything to cause it, was Kris. And you, Lance Bass, you were very hostile to him. You should be ashamed. Oh, wait, maybe... did he want to prove to Katy that even if he could have straight-people sex with me, he wouldn't? Was that it?"

"Hmm," said Lance.

"What?"

"It's nothing."

"What do you know that I don't?"

"Just that Kris was kinda uncomfortable sitting down this morning."

Adam stared at him. So—but—really? Really?

The phone rang.

"You know what?" said Adam. "Let's not answer it."

So they went back to bed.


End file.
